the bed shifts as we turn
pastel sheets draped
trailing to the floor
a show of modesty
the sun dazzles away
I can feel every ridge
of your fingerprints on me
my hands are hungry too
gorging on your skin, its heat
your silky hair and rough heels
even my nails vibrate
with your pulse
as I drag them gently
across your ribs
one by one
my fingers stepping up
so sharp and fast
We live within each other moored in time
as mussels anchor to black rock.
Valves open / shut / open
Oils on your fingertips transfer to my skin—
startling in the light, we tuck and turn in nests.
Word is body is water.
Grit in cuticles. Ardor and expectation.
Trees blown sideways, green fronds are ragged shrieks
of joy, echoing through the streaming heat.
back at home after 4 years we are broke from moving and no work and injury and stress and have no money for gifts but it’s our anniversary so we have to celebrate even though we can hardly pay for the gas to get us to the restaurant and we have not one but two kids now and one of them can’t even eat real food yet but we have a lot to be grateful for a lot to put in a toast but this restaurant doesn’t serve alcohol which is a bit of a relief in fact because we can get a cheap bottle of wine at the grocery store and drink it at home later so we go up to the glossy cream colored counter and order anything we want but definitely the combo meal because you get more bang for your buck and I want the crunchwrap supreme combo with a diet pepsi and he gets the burrito supreme combo with a sierra mist and we decide to go crazy and get some nachos with plenty of fire sauce and what the hell a bag of cinnamon twists too which means we will definitely be too full to have sex but it’s totally worth it and we will have many more anniversaries and we are most definitely in a happy place right now we love each other so much we don’t even mind sharing bites of everything and the kids are quiet for once and happy with a quesadilla and a bottle of formula respectively so it’s a pretty good anniversary, actually.
we stride down 7th Avenue eyes seeking my landmarks
only quickly as if our eyes might freeze in place I keep
hitting home, my hand in your pocket we enter climb up
to grey third-floor through windows the flaking-orange fire
escape to sit & drink wine good spirits over the city
the wind lifts our hair & fingers through our scalps
chiding our lack of woolly hats & scarves dripping fringe
preening pavement sparkling with frost March is nearly over
near & distant windows blink at us through violet haze
in the evening, lovers & office workers heading home
we pause in reddening sun, feel the city spinning as though
from far off & I feel your heat my hand on glass feet on steel
you are silent absorbing this home we breathe
together a glory full of unspeakable